System Soundtracks
by doofusface
Summary: "By the end of the first month, the sound of beeps and answering machines, of light, half-meant laughter, of excuses and flat out lies... it became their soundtrack. "


There's something about knowing someone your entire life.

You memorize a person. Anything. Everything. You absorb what you observe. Consciously, unconsciously. Details so small and so big, so wide and vast, so slim and shallow. Everything. Anything.

What's worse (or better?) is being able to tell a lie from a truth.

"Hey, Barb. Sorry, I can't make it today-"

"Dick, I have a project due tomorrow-"

"Bruce wants to bring me and Jason to Italy with him-"_  
_  
"I'm gonna hang out with Dad at the park-"

"I know, I know, eighth time this month-"

"I guess we're even? Haha... Rain check?"

By the end of the first month, the sound of beeps and answering machines, of light, half-meant laughter, of excuses and flat out lies... it became their soundtrack.

A soundtrack meant to be looped and repeated.

She's going to kill me.

Black hair spilled over the face of the 16-year-old Romani boy; he was very much distraught. Heavy on the dis. 19 scheduled meetings. 25 messages. Three legitimate excuses. 16 Team-related fakes. Six Batman-ordered cancellations.

Unfortunately, they were all directed at one best friend who had the skills and connections to make sure no one knew what happened to him. Dick Grayson, found dead last night. No new leads. Perfect.

"I'm going to die, then she's going to convince her dad to not have anyone check the case."

Laughter.

"Hey, Jay, she'll kill you, too."

Silence.

-

He's going to kill me.

She could see it now. Newspapers expressing their deepest sympathies. Then the re-location of her father. Then nothing more about the Gordons ever again. Of the 16 "we-aren't-dating" dates she'd missed over the last three months, only two were due to school (which, in turn, were due to skipping classes from lack of sleep). 14 because of an extra-curricular which pushed her already over-saturated schedule til it ripped (perhaps being a sophomore taking every available AP class wasn't the best idea).

The heir of the Wayne fortune just happened to be her oldest and best friend. He also had the charm which rivaled that of seven puppies, effective enough to convince Bruce the Moose (an unfortunate playdate ended with antlers falling on top of the unsuspecting billionaire; it stuck) to pay off anyone and everyone remotely related to the disappearance of one Barbara Gordon.

She looked over to her right. A table. Case files she "borrowed" from the precinct (which had surprisingly terrible security). She sighed. "Sorry, Dick. My death will have to wait." You'll have to race Dad for the honors.

She had been working on the cases for the past month. Solving them was easy. Keeping the files out of sight? Not so much.

And now she had to return them.

"Barb, wait up!"

This was terrible, terrible timing. She'd taken two exams, sat through the most monotonous lecture in the entirety of her 15-almost-16 years of existence, and ran an undocumented number of laps in Phys. Ed. She was, to put it lightly, tired. But his voice was soothing, and she knew his greeting hug would make her feel just a little bit better.

"Wow, you look..." "Terrible?" "You said it, not me." "Just give me a hug." He obliged.

"So, are we on for Saturday?" Here we go. "Well, actually-" He braced himself. She changed her mind. "-yeah." He relaxed. She smiled. He frowned. She questioned. He mentally and physically slapped himself,"Jason and I have to follow Bruce to L.A. tomorrow. We'll be back Sunday." She frowned. He cringed. She kissed him. "You owe me."

At least I don't have to carry that one. _  
_  
-

"Nightwing, do you see that?" "I think you mean 'her'." "Should we get Batman-" "Nah." "So what do we do?" Cackling. "Follow."

The figure in black and blue (was that yellow under her cape?) moved swiftly through the rooftops, down the side of a building, through an alley, and into the- "Rob, she's going into the precinct. Stay by the front." "Gotcha."

Nightwing followed the girl through a side window, landing inside the Commissioner's office. The table has files strewn-thrown, probably-on top."She's gonna get us in trouble." The door squeaks. He turns. The girl's eyes widen. So do his. She runs while his surprise wears off.

Confusion. "I know those eyes..."

"Nightwing? What's taking so lo- Ugh!" Crash. Punches. Kicks. Thud. "Rob? Robin, come in!" The teen hero turned for the window, racing to get to the front of the building.

Robin was out cold.

She should've just visited him at his office. In the day hours. Like a normal human being. Stupid genes.

She was leaning on the door, head in her hands, a mantra playing in her head: I knocked out the Boy Wonder. I knocked out the Boy Wonder. I knocked out the Boy Wonder. Her Batgirl suit was unceremoniously dumped into a bag to her side. Her hair was disheveled. She still couldn't believe it.

It wasn't that bad, really. She just thought maybe she'd get two birds with one stone (pun unintended) and maybe free up some time on Friday for sleep. So she went to drop of the files. At night. In her Batgirl suit.

Not one of her finest moments.

It would've helped if the two heroes didn't show up, either. They hadn't been in town for a few days- "Wait." She checked her phone. Sunday.

"There's no way."

It's easier to lie over a phone line. Hide yourself in the static. Pretend the laughter your making is more ashamed than afraid. Make believe a world where you're the victim, and you just. can't. make. it.

But here they were face to face. Food stuffing (it was Tuesday at Wayne Manor, and that meant Alfred's cake and cookies for one hour of their choosing). They both just happened to leave the same sort of urgent voice mail the day before, and so here they were.

Unfortunately for Dick, Jason and Bruce were on patrol. He had no back up.

Unfortunately for Barb, the Commissioner was working the late shift, and her friends were all at a high school party. No witnesses.

"So... You know that Nightwing guy?"

"So... You've heard of Batgirl?"

They stopped. He laughed it off. She smirked. His eyes were suspicious. Her eyes were alert.

"I hear he's like the older, better-looking Robin."

"Isn't she that lissome new heroine?"

"He single-handedly led an inter-city drug bust."

"The papers said she saved the Commissioner from a gang attack."

Staring. Chess match-like silence; gears moved. Click. Click. Click.

"Is there something you'd like to tell me, Richard?"

"Not if you don't want to tell me anything, Barbara."

Stares. Glaring. It was check mate for both of them, but neither would admit it. Silence. Then, the detective inside both of them erupted.

"When did gray and blue show up?"

"And Batgirl? Four months ago, right?"

"Nightwing came up, what, five months ago? When Bruce adopted Jay."

"The same time you started ditching calls."

"Same time you started giving me exaggerated excuses."

"You don't sleep."

"You treat Jason like a baby."

"I'm his brother now."

"I have AP classes and seven clubs."

Sighing. He leaned back. She leaned forward. He titled his head. She gave him a look worthy of the Batfamily. He countered with his signature smirk.

Waiting. Waiting. Wai-

"I'm sorry." In unison.

Normally, this wouldn't be a bad thing. Mutual apology for shared blame? Accepted. Moved on from. However, the pair had just acknowledged their double lives. His family's secret. Her father's foreseeable disapproval. Their lives at stake.

"So."

"So."

Ultimately, he couldn't take it. It was just in his nature. So he cracked a joke.

"Batgirl, though? Really?"

"Oh, shut up. It was 4 AM."

"So original."

"Grayson, one more word, I swear-"

"Look at me! I am vengeance! I am the night! I am... Batgirl! It's really not as catchy, I mean- Oof!"

In retrospect, he probably should've remembered that she'd been taking martial arts lessons since she was four. That, and Jason was a little sneak with a camera.


End file.
